ты в плену босоногого танца тебе голову кружит...

you are captive barefoot dance
your head is spinning a dream
I'm the last singer of decadence
and from my song you melt

say nothing will happen
if i'm a little rude
you speak and tar oozes
in the corners of darkened lips ...

decadence ...

how we got into the weave
destinies of broken and flowers
better than bloom hour
life left for later

and we will deceive ourselves and believe
like falling into a trance again
as if the doors were open again
named decadence ...

decadence ...

and you don’t hide your face under a mask
everything is open all in reality
this world is not like a fairy tale
but they still live in it

and the forbidden in the heart is beating
and intoxicates and breaks and ruins
you are silent only tar oozing
in the corners of darkened lips